


For Where Else Could I Go

by tajador



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Smut, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25883278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tajador/pseuds/tajador
Summary: the path to collect the stars they've etched upon each other's skin. AKA How To Let Kalim & Jamil Bang In A Canon Compliant Manner
Relationships: Kalim Al-Asim/Jamil Viper
Comments: 43
Kudos: 177





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one goes out to my favorite jamil quote of all time:
> 
> "what sport are you good at? me? i can't think of any sport i'm NOT good at." — jamil, R gym, homescreen line

_How did I get here?_

Fingers sinking into Kalim's sleeve, to anchor himself rather than to hold him close, Jamil's other hand hovering near Kalim's jaw but never truly touching him — He can't, he won't.

Yet his lips burn as they suggest a kiss, not quite connected, grazed only by each other's hot breaths until a simple syllable escapes Kalim's lips before Jamil seals them, melts into him, breaks him in even if he had been welcomed, tongue and heat dancing in all of their need.

_How did we get here?_

* * *

* * *

"...yet I can see no reasoning behind making us— Jamil-san. Are you listening?"

Of course he wasn't. Azul's monologues are white noise, background music at best, his classmate insisting on sitting right next to him in PE class even after Jamil had intentionally grabbed the nearest non-Azul classmate he could find to pair with for his warm-ups, hoping for a second of respite. Naturally, Azul had not gotten the hint. Or rather, purposefully chose to ignore it.

The dorm leader continues his rant without paying any mind to Jamil staring ahead, who recognizes the other class setting up in the yard. The two tufts of silver were unmistakable, irksome in all of their light, Kalim leaning on his broom as he chats away with Silver. Jamil might be unable to discern his words at this distance but his laugh could likely be heard throughout the entire school grounds, smiling and gesturing as Silver calmly nods along to whatever gibberish he's spouting.

It feels safe watching Kalim from this distance, to sigh over his smudged eyeliner and crooked headband and untied shoelaces without feeling compelled to fix any of it for him, to look at the curve of his back and the strength in his arms and the way each of his movements transpire of an elegance that would blind Jamil were he any closer.

Kalim touches Silver then, fingertips on a pale wrist, and Jamil feels an itch course across his skin as he watches, knowing how naturally it came for Kalim, casual in all of his touches and affections and Jamil aches, what he took for granted and always knew as his now meant for everyone but him.

Which is what he had always wanted, of course. To no longer drown under the pressure of Kalim's fingers against his, his digits embedded in each inch of his skin from his birth up to... Three months ago now, _fuck_ it's been three months, goosebumps tickling his arms as he tries to remember what it felt like to have Kalim pressed against him in hugs and holds and touches Jamil was told to welcome, _be kind to him_ , kind as Kalim thought to be with everyone, unaware that what he perceived as light could burn others.

"Jamil-san!" Unfamiliar fingers graze his shoulder, a cold shower to drag him out of his thoughts as Azul begs for his attention. "I would be honoured to be a part of your team for this horrendous, _ahem,_ marvelous activity they name football, which _definitely_ has a place on our curriculum and _undoubtedly_ contributes to our betterment as magi—"

"Sure. Whatever's fine." Jamil knows to cut him off promptly, walking towards the rest of their class as his eyes continue following Kalim across the sports field, still all smiles and engrossed in whatever conversation he's now having with several other classmates who had gathered around him.

Reassuring taps to their shoulders, encouraging slaps to their back, at the tip of his toes and an arm around Silver's shoulders now, _notice me you dim-witted bastard,_ words like an echo in Jamil's mind — And Kalim sees him, his smile never fading, exaggerated waving gestures, finally acknowledging Jamil.

The tip of his fingers twitch, an urge to wave back, and it's the same question crawling into his mind as it had for the past few months — Does _he_ want to wave back at his childhood friend? Or had he been told that he must want to return the gesture to his employer's kid?

Jamil might have voiced his feelings of decades but it ate away at his certainty, guidelines that dictated each of his words and actions now set aside, at least for some time, at least while they're here.

"Ah! Kalim-san! GOOD MORNING!! How kind of him to greet me as such!" Azul's obnoxious waves burst into Jamil's personal space, his classmate gesturing towards Kalim. "I am truly thankful that the events that transpired these past holidays have allowed the relationship between our dorms to bloom so wonderfully. Wouldn't you agree, Jamil-san?"

Jamil is saved from answering by the strident whistle, instructing them to get into position before the kick-off. One last look towards Kalim's class, a part of him annoyed that he wasn't paying attention to his instructor, distractedly stretching against his broom, while another part of Jamil is...

Whatever. He carefully observes the opposing team's passes and dribbles while harrying their defenders, studying each of their movements for minutes while waiting for a pass and attempting to single out his teammates' calls without getting distracted by Azul's misguided instructions.

A chance, then, Jamil letting out a short laugh as he notices the opponents underestimate the length of a pass to one of their midfielders, and it's simply too easy to run forward and intercept it, a bounce in the ball as Jamil gains control of it. Benched classmates cheer and so does Kalim, his voice distant but unmistakable, Jamil running past an opponent and then another with the ball at his feet, feinting to the left before dribbling away to the right, the goal in sight.

He grins towards the goalkeeper while slowing his run only to take aim, throwing his leg back and then forward, ankle locked as he kicks the ball into the net.

"Splendid!! Simply amazing!" Azul's heaving breaths now background noise once again, and Jamil finds himself turning towards Kalim's direction on the other side of the sports field even as he returns his teammates' high fives and hears their praises.

He's grinning and clapping, naturally, his broom on the ground now, hands cupped around his mouth to shout a _Jamil is the best!!_ loud enough to reach his ears.

Jamil groans but feels the smile that forms on his lips, hidden behind his arm as he wipes sweat away.


	2. Chapter 2

_This is what I've always wanted._

Kalim tastes him against his lips, against his tongue, leaning into Jamil's hand at his jaw and he wants so much more, his hands trembling by his sides, as if moving would scare Jamil away when he can't lose him any more than he already has — He can't, he won't.

But Jamil's tongue moves against his and he's caught, captured, enslaved by his desires, moving his lips in a dance he never wants to end.

_He's everything I've ever wanted._

* * *

* * *

Kalim leans against the windowsill, the lunchbox Jamil had dutifully prepared for him still untouched as he looks down into the college's courtyard, trying to find someone to share it with. Studying, dorm meetings, additional club activities, all of his friends seemed to have their own reasons today, which was fine, of course! But...

He notices Jamil after a while, sitting by the apple tree beside a pile of books when a group of students Kalim recognizes as dorm members of theirs approach him. Squirmy at first, they eventually settle down with each word and nod and smile Jamil offers them. Kalim wishes he were sitting by Jamil's side on that bench, hearing all of his advice and encouragements, all he had left now crumbled notes and memos hidden in each of his pockets since last year, things to remember without having Jamil remember them for him.

He might not be able to read Jamil's lips from this distance but can surely see the smiles that light his face up, smiles Kalim had thought long forgotten, perhaps selfish in thinking they had been lost by his own fault years ago. They hadn't faded away, they simply frayed out of their interactions until they stopped being his.

Their dorm members scamper away after thanking Jamil profusely, and Kalim soon sees why they had been in such a hurry. With elegance worthy of a ballroom choreography, Vil walks towards Jamil, imposing gestures turning into what seems to be a pleasant exchange, Jamil moving his books aside to allow Vil to sit beside him before the dorm leader starts jotting down notes.

Kalim finds himself smiling, watching the two of them go from frowns and heated debates to graceful smiles and big words Kalim wouldn't understand. It could be about magic, it could be about fashion, it could be about cooking, Jamil resourceful and attuned to every topic. Kalim wishes to hear him talk for hours on end again, like they used to, drinking his words and absorbing his knowledge — At least after apologizing for all the times he fell asleep or zoned out on him. Oops.

"What're you looking at?" Leona's steps are loud, intentionally making his presence known. "You and your sad little herbivore eyes."

"Leona! You're not sleeping?"

"Hey. Watch what you're saying."

"My bad, my bad!" Kalim laughs sheepishly, scooting aside to let Leona lean against the window in turn.

"Heh. Those two sure make a pair." 

"Jamil would probably be much happier being Vil's vice-leader..."

"Sounds about right."

Kalim sighs audibly, Leona's words doing little for comfort, but their honesty is an appreciated constant.

"He'd probably be happier in any other dorm... Wouldn't you like it if he were in yours? He's so good at everything..."

"Stop whining. It's not like you." Leona's grunt surprises Kalim, who finally stops ogling Jamil to turn towards him. "That brat's prouder than any damn lion. He wouldn't trade his place for anything. Well, except yours, but you went over that already, didn't you?"

"Leona..." Kalim feels a few tears bubble at the corner of his eyes like they had done so far too often in the past few months. "I can't believe you're the one cheering me up! You're so kind!!"

"Hey! Don't make that face!" They turn back to the window, Jamil and Vil still happily conversing, shaded by the tree. "It's on you to make that place feel less shitty for him now."

"I wish I knew how..." Kalim, at the very least, knew no amount of gifts or empty praises could ever sway Jamil.

"That's for you to figure out. Can't do all the thinking for you." Leona gently bumps a shoulder against his. "But try talking, for one."

Kalim shudders, a dry laugh in an attempt to play it cool. Talking. He was really good at it. It's the first thing he had been taught, to make an impression, to capture rooms, to sway anyone into believing in him, to make connections and seal deals. He was also taught to not burden anyone with his fears and troubles, to keep his smile so that everyone else in the house may smile in turn, to accept who he was and everything it implied.

To shield everyone from his reality with half-truths and pleasantries.

All so unlike this Jamil who was no longer his, radiant under the courtyard's sun, who had bared his heart for Kalim, burns and scars, truths and revelations that hurt only half as much as letting secrets eat them out from the inside.

"Well, enjoy your sightseeing." Leona starts walking away, but turns on his heels just as quickly. "Hey, Kalim. Kids like him..."

Leona groans as he presses his fist to his forehead, his ears twitching before continuing.

"It's not us they hate. We're just... Easier to hate than the systems and concepts we represent and shit like that."

Kalim tries to smile as he wonders if Leona ever listens to his own advice.

"Ugh. All this talking made my head hurt. See you."

"Leona, wait!"

Leona turns to him yet again, another groan in his throat.

"Let's eat together! My treat!" Kalim's grin is honest this time. "By that I mean I'll share my lunch with you!"

"...Any meat?"

"Lots!"

"Let's go eat in the courtyard, then."

Leona chuckles as he leads the way, Kalim excitedly following in his steps before running ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these first two chapters aimed to lay down the foundations of where i think things stand as of now between them 🥺 i do believe they will be smooching next time. stay tuned! yeah!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're a top, and i'm a top, then who's driving the car?

"Stop singing." Jamil should have known turning on his tape deck wouldn't be enough to keep Kalim quiet, the heir instead singing along to incorrect lyrics while distractedly highlighting his notes. "Or I'm kicking you out."

"My bad! Sorry!" Surprisingly, at least to Jamil, Kalim doesn't follow up with rubbish justifications like _But it helps me focus!!_ or whatever else his dimwit brain could come up with. Leaves it at an apology. Hmph.

He certainly doesn't doubt Riddle and Azul's academic competences, but their volunteer work as Kalim's tutors — Likely motivated by an interest in pissing Jamil off, which worked, Jamil begrudgingly admits — hadn't been as effective as his own, as those countless days of his life wasted on Kalim's forgetfulness, as him and a lifetime of knowing how to offset Kalim's shortcomings.

In this, he had to be the best as well. And seeing Kalim's grades edge onto failure insults him in the same way that it insults his family, their employer — Is what Jamil told himself when he invited Kalim into his room and sat him down at his second desk, as he used to for months past, as he hadn't done so in months.

"No humming either. Focus." Jamil's harsh words earn him a meek laughter out of Kalim, who mimics a mouth zipping gesture with his fingers. Good. Quiet Kalim is his favorite Kalim.

Not that he had to have a favorite Kalim. But there are sides to him that Jamil found himself seeking in the space his anger and hatred created, openings in his schedule and empty seats, disorientation mistaken as freedom.

It barely took weeks following the holidays for Jamil's grades to soar, for the praises to shower, for teachers and classmates alike to take note that something had changed — And it felt good, _damn_ it sure did, but it was also easy, much too easy, easier than trying to make Kalim worthy of his titles.

It's a lunchbox at first, then pleats in his uniform pants, then sticky notes in a textbook, then tagging along to dance by his side for a fair folk fashion show to steal weather regulating gems, as one does, with the same reasoning each time. It's for his family's sake. For their honor as the Asim's proudest and longest serving employees.

It's also obviously for their sake that he scoots closer to Kalim, takes one look at his notes and sighs exasperatedly before throwing a cushion down beside his to put the fool back on the right track.

"Don't highlight everything. There's no way _you_ can remember all of that." Jamil would never talk to others the way he talks to Kalim now (Okay, aside from Azul, maybe. Probably.) but each word is poison he needs to spit out, accumulated in his guts for years, both metaphorically and quite literally. Each word is a wish that these emotions he can barely make sense of are justified. "Are you even reading what's written?"

"Um, haha, I'm trying to!"

"Try harder. Read the paragraphs and then go back to highlight key words." Jamil's elbow brushes against Kalim's annoyingly warm arm as he leans forward to underline what notions and ingredients actually mattered out of the block of text Kalim had turned yellow.

"Thank you, Jamil." Kalim's voice riles him up. Months of this and he has to convince himself that his shows of gratitude are as empty as they've always been, thrown around to excuse his next wish. "I couldn't really concentrate."

"Can you ever?"

Kalim stays quiet for a moment, nibbles at his lower lip, as if he were actually pondering what to say next instead of blurting out whatever popped into his mind. Funny.

"Whatever. And you should be taking notes in your margins, too. Like to justify why in the worlds you would think highlighting a token phrase like _'This concludes our exploration of herbal balms safe for non-magic user consumption'_ is important—"

"I'm too happy to focus!"

"What!?"

"Jamil helping me study... Being in Jamil's room again... I really missed you!!"

"We. Talk. Literally every single day. You follow me to school every morning. We have weekly dorm meetings that last hours. We were sitting together at the cafeteria just _yesterday._ "

"With friends! And you were talking with Riddle and Trey for the entirety of lunchbreak!"

"Yeah? Because you were talking with Jade the whole time!?"

"Oh... Was I... Hehe..."

Jamil squints towards him threateningly, warning Kalim that he was nearing his quota of dumb shit, but his gaze softens when he realizes that hey, at least Kalim had paid attention to him and who he was talking with.

And why does that matter, again?

He answers himself with a sigh, turning his attention back to the textbook. Another word to underline here, one to bar there, taking the highlighter out of Kalim's hands to highlight this... Why are Kalim's fingers so warm, had they always been this warm? You'd think he would remember, but there are details you take for granted when you assume to be trapped within them forever, and this sentence is sure to be on the next alchemy test, highlighting it while feeling Kalim's stare scorch his skin, read the text you damn fool, don't try to read me—

"I can do it myself, Jamil..." Kalim's voice is meek, but Jamil sees a threat in his words nonetheless.

"Can you!?"

"I can. I'm sorry, I don't want to bother you, but—"

"Why are you trying so fucking hard!?" Jamil feels pressure pushing down onto his sternum, shame and thrill, months since his last outburst.

"What...?"

_Can't you at the very least allow me to hate you?_

But of course Kalim wouldn't even allow him that. He looks at Jamil and it's the same burn as it has always been, red-hot demands he doesn't even need to voice for Jamil to heed them, Jamil who was so perfectly convinced that he knew exactly what Kalim wanted — Which is everything, always taking, always asking for more — but what did _he_ want?

_I want to touch him._

"Jamil, sorry, I'll just let you study—"

Jamil grabs Kalim's sleeve the moment he moves to stand, staring at each other in mutual surprise, Jamil more at his thoughts than his action, _what the fuck_ , but it's all he can think about now — _I want to touch him, I want to kiss him_ — in all of his incertainties at least knowing this isn't a thought he was conditioned to believe.

"Jamil...?"

No one had taught him that he needed to hate Kalim. No one had taught him that he needed to want to kiss him, either. Yet here he was.

Teeth grinding, brows furrowing, fingers digging deep into the rolled up cardigan sleeves. Staring into eyes he knew more than his own fingertips, akin to fire not only in their color, but in the way they sear away at Jamil's resistances, in how they draw him in, mesmerize him with promises of danger and prohibitions.

"Ja—Mmh!"

It isn't the first time he thinks of kissing Kalim — Each gaze that lasted a second too long, each moment he had Kalim vulnerable under his hands, by way of magic or makeup brush — and as much as he hates to admit it, it surely isn't the last time he would think of it, either. But it certainly is the first time he sees no reason to stop himself.

Kalim's eyes are shut tight, long lashes tickling Jamil's skin, sharp breaths escaping his nose as his lips tremble against Jamil's and it's pathetic, where is the little scion's need to monopolize Jamil's every move, where are his naive laughs, where...

He barely has time to pull away that Kalim's lips find his again, parting just enough for their breaths to meet, inviting Jamil in, giving him the space he actually wanted — Space inside of him, inside his mouth, the tip of Jamil's tongue tasting Kalim's lips, a shiver that could be Kalim's just as it could be his.

His hand lingers near Kalim's jaw but he doesn't dare touch him, not yet, knowing it would be different now, nothing of the casual touches they exchanged as naturally as words for nearly two decades — Touches and words alike in lies, in obligations, when they now had to be truth and honest feelings.

But it's Kalim who leans into the touch, shifting his head as he moves his lips and they feel so unbelievably familiar, lips Jamil had always known, albeit not against his as they were now.

He knows he should close his eyes but finds himself unable to stop contemplating Kalim's silken eyelids, for all his talk of wanting him to disappear anxious at the thought of Kalim slipping out of his fingers were he to let himself think of anything but him.

And so Jamil touches him, presses his fingertips into warm skin, traces the line of his jaw until his nails graze a pierced lobe, Kalim parting his lips into a quiet gasp. Jamil takes the invitation, tasting Kalim on his tongue as he invades his warmth, feels him return the gesture and _fuck_ he knows what he's doing, whatever it meant.

He touches Jamil, _finally_ , hands holding his waist much too gently, wishing Kalim would press down on his ribs in all of the strength he knows to be in those arms of his and not like the finest of porcelains, not like just another one of his treasures — Not like one of his personal belongings.

A bite, then, Jamil's teeth sinking into Kalim's lower lip, letting him know he won't be compliant to his touches any longer and hoping to incite anything but tenderness, his fingers slipping under Kalim's ear to grab a handful of curls instead. The wrinkle between Kalim's eyebrows deepens as the most subtle of moans escapes his throat, answering in a firm sway of his tongue and lips — _Better._

Not as good are the fingers that tangle into Jamil's bangs, Kalim sickeningly careful as he brushes through straightened strands of hair while his other hand thumbs at Jamil's chest, massaging him as if the kiss wasn't enough to keep Kalim busy already. Jamil holds onto silver hair as his tongue explores deeper, his fingers sneaking under Kalim's headdress, determined to keep him against him. To make Kalim his after years of being Kalim's.

But it's all delusions, hopeless fantasies, Kalim's hand at the back of his neck now, his lips leading their dance, heedless of Jamil's teeth and groans. It's a clash in itself, against his better judgement, against Kalim, a desperate attempt at meeting each other halfway and letting their tongues speak what their voices still couldn't.

And with seventeen years of unspoken feelings, this silent conversation is sure to last well into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jamil's perspective is so deeply biased by his own pain and the depth of his misinterpretation towards kalim is an incredibly fascinating narrative device TWST canon brought to the table, seen clear as day in the ghost marriage event story.
> 
> it's also such a challenge to write for me considering that i think kalim is an exceptional, brilliant, more-than-meets-the-eye treasure of a kid. basically disclaimer these are jamil's thoughts not my own HAHAHAHA
> 
> thanks for tagging along :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy dance & wishes event ꙳

Kalim knows of love. Of the love he holds for his family, for his friends, for the members of his dorm.

But then there's the love he dreamed of as a child, read in fairy tales, heard in songs, the love that seemed less legend and more like reality when his carpet first took him soaring across a sea of crystalline stars and all his innocent mind of a child could think of was — _I want to show this to Jamil. I want to be here with Jamil_.

A love he soon grew to forget, obligations and responsibilities and realities he sought to dismiss pressing down on all that was bottled up inside of him until dreams and romances found themselves long buried and forgotten.

It shatters, then — The one betrayal he never saw coming when he should have, he really should have — All he had suppressed spilling out through his blood and tears that interlace with Jamil's ink. But he slowly picks each little piece back up, helped by friends, new and old, of sea-dwelling mermaids, lion princes, aurora-eyed knights in shining armor, and all these other humans who are still able to dream.

 _Tu es à fleur de peau, petit roi de l'or_ , Rook tells him once. He's bared now, exposed, a flower which could bloom from the faintest hint of sunlight just as it could wilt from a momentary lack of care. It's both, Kalim finds.

For each morning he sees a home cooked lunch box still waiting for him, for each moment he notices Jamil still glancing at him, for each word they still exchange, it's hope that blooms.

Not hope that Jamil would label his feelings as anything other than hatred, and certainly not hope that Jamil is ready to call him a friend anew. But rather hope that what had been buried deep within Kalim years ago, seeds of a love people sing and write of, could still blossom through cracks and scars.

He knows now that the Jamil he considered his was simply their families' wishes given form. But the one who stands by his side now — Albeit a little further away, just a little further — is who Jamil had always been, had always wanted to be.

Kalim soon finds that the Jamil he dreamed of carrying across the stars as a child is this one. The one who lets passion guide his every movement, the one who doesn't hesitate to impress just as he doesn't hesitate to help, the one who turns heads with a simple exhale, the one who knows all the answers to questions as dim as the ones that cross Kalim's mind or as deep as the ones that have stumped philosophers.

The sizzling sounds and sweet scents of grilled onions drag Kalim out of his thoughts, _wow_ , it was far too early for his face to warm up over images and memories and _oh_ , he runs his tongue across his lower lip, _that happened_ , weeks already and he loops his memory of their kiss in his mind in hopes that the sensation never fades away, desperate to relive that moment, terrified to lose any chance to.

A swift sway of his fingers, the spices he hopes to be remembering correctly in all of their flakes and powders floating out of their pots like fairy dust and into the skillet, mixing into the ground beef and vegetables as a cooking spoon swirls around by itself, animated by Kalim's magic.

"Trying to steal my tasks now, are you?"

Jamil's voice makes him jump, his vice-leader as quiet as ever, not yet wearing the bells and jewelry that soothe Kalim's instincts.

"No, no, of course not! I don't think the guys would be happy about that... Oh! And, good morning!"

Jamil groans his response, much less of a morning person than Kalim was despite the heavy schedules that demanded him to be. No problem! Kalim leaves the skillet and magicked spoon to themselves, instead pouring fresh coffee into a cup that Jamil quickly takes out of his hands, sipping away at the burning hot, pitch black concoction. So cool...

Jamil doesn't speak further for some time, allowing Kalim to return to the stove under his watchful-slash-judgemental stare. They had yet to discuss their kiss, leaving each other to their own interpretations as they had always done so, more questions than answers. Questions Kalim would never word, too afraid, Jamil right within his grasp yet still so easy to lose. Within his grasp as he had always been, now more than ever, for the more reality changes, the more it remains the same.

"Wait." Jamil interrupts the near-silence of bubbling dishes and gentle flames. "Make a divot for each egg instead of cracking them right on top. It'll look cleaner."

Kalim looks at him, then back to his dish, then back at Jamil. "A what?"

"Just. Holes. I don't know. Whatever. Do what you want." In all of his grumbling beauty Jamil looked as stellar as ever, a messy bun holding his unstyled hair up in all of their curls, a thin top exposing his chest, a blessing for tired eyes.

And tired they were. Kalim had always been a light sleeper, but the thoughts that kept him up as of late were more pleasant than the usual, of glossy lips and hot tongue and rugged fingers at his jaw and of wondering if Jamil thinks of him, too.

Kalim does as Jamil suggests, reprogramming the spoon's enchantment to allow it to press cavities across the surface of the ground meat and vegetables, subtle sparks flying for each egg Kalim cracks without having to touch them, their liquid solidifying into appealing shapes across the skillet.

Reduced heat, sprinkled herbs and spice, and it's done. The utensils wash themselves as Kalim's magic guides the meal along with warmed flatbread to the table, settling it down right in front of Jamil, who looks up at him with a frown.

"No point in me taste-testing food you cooked yourself, you know."

"You can uh, taste-test the whole meal! If you'd like to, of course!"

Jamil squints for half a minute, each second warming Kalim's insides up a little further.

"It's just... Well..." Kalim laughs as he sits at the table in turn, uncharacteristically meek. "I'm always so happy whenever Jamil cooks for me... And I know it upsets you when I'm in the kitchen! But I was really careful, see!"

Kalim shows his palms, uncut and unburnt, having allowed his magic to do the work for him. He knows it's far too late to lighten the burden he's placed onto Jamil's shoulders — Not that Jamil in all of his pride and confidence would ever allow him to do so — But the least he can do now is acknowledge that burden.

A profound sigh and Jamil gives in, dipping a piece of bread into the makhlama, Kalim observing each of his gestures with stars in his eyes. He had chosen to give Jamil his space after they had silently exchanged each other's taste, allowing him his first steps and his own decisions — But were Kalim not so afraid of harming him more than he already had, this is where he would always choose to be. With him. Be it among the stars, or within the dorm's uncharacteristically modest kitchen.

"It's... Not bad." Jamil takes a second scoop, a tiny wrinkle above his eyebrow noting his irritation, yet he keeps eating.

"Good, good! I'm glad! I'll make you some every day, then!"

"Please don't..."

Kalim wants to ask Jamil about his plans for the day, about his dreams of the previous night, anything to hear him talk. He wants to hold the hand that was fiddling with the coffee mug, fingers he wants to remember the print of against his skin. He wants to spend each morning immersed in his beauty, within his mind.

But Kalim holds back, just as he's held back for weeks, for months, teaching himself to rely on others, to trust others when Jamil should never have been the only one to bear all of that weight.

And then his stomach tightens, his chest bursts, and it's past and present and future — Memories and reality and possibilities — Of having Jamil orbit around him as the sun many claim Kalim to be, unable to show the same selflessness as the Thief Prince of legends did for his genie, unable to grant Jamil his wish of freedom. Unable to see himself without him, _sick_ , for all the efforts Kalim puts into bothering anyone but him, it's Jamil he wants to come home to.

"Is this your idea of an apology for ignoring me these past two weeks?" Jamil spits the words out nonchalantly, as if his conception were truth.

"What! I never ignore you!!" Kalim feels his face heat up simply from Jamil staring him down, as if he hadn't known his eyes for nearly two decades now.

"I see. Guess you were just... Deliberately sitting with other friends every single day, answering my messages with nothing more than smiley faces, leaving for school without me," Kalim sinks further into his seat with each element Jamil continues enumerating.

"Stop, stop! My bad, okay!" It's not the message Kalim meant to send, obviously. "I'm sorry."

"You're always sorry. It pisses me off. You can't just throw excuses around and keep being a damn fool."

"I know! I mean it."

"Sure you do. Ugh." Jamil puts down the food and rubs at his temple. "Look, I'm tired of running after you. I... Tried something, and now I'm the one who has to do all the work. Again."

Kalim's eyes widen, speechless for a moment. "You tried... What? Helping me study again?"

"Now you're just fucking with me."

"Maybe." Kalim knows how fake his laugh sounds, too flustered to put up a front. "I can't stop thinking about it. About you."

Jamil's lips part for an instant, Kalim barely able to catch his surprise before he returns to his frown.

"But I'm..." Scared. Unbelievably terrified. More than he's been since the last time he was taken away from his family, as much as when he saw Jamil fall to his knees in pain, clutching at his throat. "Wondering if it's what you want?"

"So now you think you know what I want?"

"I don't! So I'm asking you!"

"Asking if I want what, exactly?"

Kalim bites his lips, hesitant. All these chances to hurt each other further with each honest word that could escape his mouth.

"Would you... Kiss me again?"

Jamil stares at him. Silent. Quiet, still, as he gets up to wrap the leftovers, Kalim's heart throbbing both from the lack of answer and the fact that his cooking was worth keeping for later, apparently. He moves to the sink then, washing the dishes, and Kalim wonders if Jamil always works as a way to avoid having to answer such questions, to himself, to others.

Kalim stands next to him, wondering if he could use wind magic to dry the dishes in an attempt to help, but finds himself entranced now that he's near Jamil again, almost as close as they were when...

His sharp eyes refuse to look at Kalim, a few curls dangling out of his bun, his exposed skin seemingly so soft, every inch of him inciting desire. When did Kalim start seeing him this way? After their kiss? After his reality crumbled? 

Or was this how he had always felt?

Yeah.

"Jamil." Kalim touches his wrist, gentle, waiting for Jamil's eyes to meet his. "Can I kiss you?"

Having been left with silence for months had taught Kalim to open his eyes, to try and understand without being told what he is meant to think. To notice the increased pulse within the veins under his fingers, the subtle parting of Jamil's lips, his eyes that darken, dilate.

"Do it." Jamil's hiss doesn't conceal his need, putting down sponge and dishes as Kalim's fingers sneak up his neck while his other hand grabs hold of Jamil's wrist.

 _Finally._ Weeks that had felt like eternity, for once he had gotten a taste, it's all Kalim could ever want. For all the paradises he could build for others, his own oasis rested here, upon Jamil's lips, bliss flowing out of his mouth, pleasure at the tip of his tongue. His, and his alone.

"You know... When people kiss, it means they want to get married!"

"What fucking year do you think this is?"

"It's two thou—"

"Nevermind. You watch too many movies. Next you'll say you're in love."

"Of course! I do love Jamil!"

"You are intolerable."

Kalim laughs, sheepish. "I mean it. I always have! But..."

It's too much.

To trap Jamil again. To shackle him to a title, to expectations, to Kalim. He can't make that same mistake.

"Can't we just... Be seventeen? At least while we're here?"

"I'm eighteen."

Kalim laughs, caught off guard. The corners of Jamil's mouth, too, twitch upwards.

He knows now that Jamil would be able to speak his mind, would tell him his truth regardless of how venomous it might be.

Perhaps, with time, Kalim could learn to do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's difficult to go too far into discussions and resolutions, my love for canon keeping me from stepping on any brilliant toes or going against fascinating writing choices, but i hope you can still believe that in all that remains to be seen, in the space inbetween truth and imagination, they can find something in each other.
> 
> if you'd like further reading to tide yourself over with some horny until i find time to write the final chapter, i recommend taking a look at [Sigh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25465390)!
> 
> PS. thank you for all the magical feedback! yalls comments are so inspiring and motivating!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :D come chat and check out exclusive stories, translations & references on my 100% twst, 99% scarabia twitter: [@mrromrro](https://twitter.com/mrromrro?s=21) ♡


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